


Because You Know Me

by MorriganFearn



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Sword of Seals
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorriganFearn/pseuds/MorriganFearn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of staying to find out what General Murdock wanted, Gale purposefully avoided the messenger from Ilia to help a young wyvern rider in danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because You Know Me

**Author's Note:**

> Done for FE-Fest Spring-Summer 2014. Prompt: Fire Emblem 6, Gale/Miledy - AU where he defected/was able to be recruited

Gale saw the messenger standing outside his field tent. The colors of gold and purple did not stand out too obviously amid other noble Etrurian messengers in their silver and indigo, but the double headed wyvern emblazoned on his chest might as well have been a beacon of lightning. In the chaos of the command departing from this field camp to the castle proper Gale did not think that he had been seen. He clenched the orders he had so recently intercepted in his fist, and doubled back in the crowd.

This couldn't wait. The General would understand, when it was over. If it ever was over. Narshen and his little child's games might haunt Gale the rest of his career, but he would not allow good wyvern riders loyal to the crown to be caught up in them.

As Gale headed for the wyvern corral, he thought he caught movement from the messenger out of the corner of his eye. A distraction. He must have one. He could go in good conscience, if he never knew what message the General was trying to give him. Once those orders were relayed, however—he picked up his pace, dodging around a contingent of Etrurian soldiers decked out in the deep colors of a noble family close to the throne.

A man clearly leading the contingent stood aside with barely concealed dislike in his eyes. Gale mentally cataloged his trappings, continuing on before the silver lance, the dark colors, and bold Etrurian hair tapped on his hind thoughts. General Murdock had been meaning to interview speak to anyone who had seen Narshen's performance—and Gale suspected, because he was not blind, the king's—at Missur. General Percival had not only been there, he had left at about the same time as Narshen had absconded, according to the reports Gale had read. Those traitorous hind thoughts that reminded him again and again that missions were not achieving the goals they should, and noted over and over that his king was not acting as the leader he had been last year, let alone when he was a prince, and Gale was young and enthralled with his service, pointed out that _this_ was one weapon against the messenger that would surely delay any summons from the General.

“General!” Gale doubled back, much to the surprise of the group. “I am—” for a moment his rank failed him. There had been a lot of deaths as the Lycian army advanced. General Murdock had said there might be another promotion for him, soon. But for now best to go for the title that was most generically impressive— “Flight Commander Gale, aide to General Murdock. My apologies. General Murdock did wish to speak with you, after the incident in Missur. But he has been detained in Ilia these long months. He did send a courier. I saw the man back by the wyvern lords' tents. Even if a meeting is impossible, at least you may communicate by letter.”

Something squirmed in his stomach. He hoped his face remained immobile. He had not actually lied. General Murdock did want to talk to this man. Gale was not, yet, a traitor. And he had not betrayed the man who had taken him in, and taught him everything. That much was important. If he was going to disregard a senior officer's orders, it would be orders that were grossly unjust and made without any respect for the army's needs and ways of dealing.

The Etrurian general's face settled into a skeptical frown. “And why can I not send the message through you?”

That answer was easy enough, and why the army used couriers. “I am currently stationed at this camp, which is about to go into battle with the Lycian army, sir. There is very little use telling me what you wish to say if I am dead in two hours. The courier knows his job well, and will get the message through.”

Gale caught a snort of suppressed laughter, but he was giving General Percival the same respectful gaze he used on any commanding officer he was unsure of, which consisted of looking into blank air about two handspans to the left of the man's ear. It was possible that he had amused one of the men attending on the general with his frankness.

“Very well. Let me see if I can find this messenger of yours before I fall in battle, too.”

Gale took that as his dismissal, and bowed.

Spring rains and the weight of an army division had turned the ground of the camp into a muddied hole, but the day itself was fine, with a light breeze that would lift any wyvern with ease. Gale wished it would lift him, as he strode toward the straw filled ground of the wyvern corral. Not that straw had greatly reduced the mess that a full troop of twenty wyverns could create on muddy ground. Thank goodness Crow was not in the habit of rolling, the way some wyverns were wont to do.

The temporary fence was to keep humans and horses out, and rocked as Gale hauled himself over, trying to land in a clear space that wasn't occupied with sun greedy reptiles. Most of the full grown wyverns had congregated in a pile in the the sunniest part of the huge circle, using their war spines to keep the younger ones at bay if they grew tired of playing in the tree lined shade.

He walked carefully toward the pile, making clicking noises to reassure the lords of the sunny roost. His own giant black comfort lifted a sleepy head to glare balefully at him when he neared.

“Come on,” Gale soothed, walking to the shoulder that would bear the saddle's weight. “We have to keep someone's head on their shoulders.”

Crow lashed his huge tail, but heaved himself to his feet after enough encouragement, and padded after Gale like any well trained hunting hound. By the time they had gotten into their gear, and managed to take Ziess' ground satchel from his tent, the movement of the army advancing upon the castle was clear. Gale leaned forward, digging in his heels.

The wind whistled through his hair, thrilling as always, as Crow zoomed toward the royal palace. Sometimes Gale wondered if he closed his eyes the rest of the world would disappear, and the simple seconds of flight would stretch on to eternity. All the worries, all the losses gone.

Then he spotted Rubley's rare true blue coloration amid the burnt ochres, tree greens, and slightly less usual loamy blacks of the wyvern squad lining up to General Narshen's specifications, getting ready for the coming battle. Crow landed like a charm, claws delicately biting into the grass of whatever royal park was contained within these walls, and allowing Gale to walk him neatly to Rubley's side.

“New orders, sir knight,” Gale addressed the young rider, feeling a sudden pang to realize that he was nearly a veteran. How many battles had the boy been in? The unhappy numbers were in a frozen barracks in Ilia, now. “Come with me.”

No one on the squad protested. Ziess even quailed a bit—unbecoming behavior, but Gale wondered if news of the orders was spreading. It would be just like Narshen to loudly proclaim his scapegoat for the world to hear. But surely, if Ziess thought that his execution awaited him, he would protest, rather than meekly guide his young wyvern after the larger bulk of Gale's Crow.

Searching for what he knew must be there, an example of Etrurian extravagance if there ever was one, Gale found a side door to allow horses into the the castle. In case an honor guard needed to ride up to the throne room, he thought, with perhaps more than the polite amount of sarcasm. As soon as Ziess entered the shadow of the door, he perked up. “Are we planning an ambush?”

“Of a kind,” Gale waited for the wooden door to shut behind them. “Have you seen the latest orders from General Narshen?”

“No—but my wing is one of the,” Zeiss stumbled over the truth of the term 'greenest most inexperienced set of recruits that never should have seen war if not for the recent losses in Lycia and Etruria's south.' “It's newer than most.”

“It is,” Gale agreed. Why had Ziess looked so scared for a moment, there? Well, that was another question for another day, if they both survived their respective fates. “Do you know where your sister is?”

“She is with the princess, I assume, as the king has ordered,” Ziess gave Gale a funny look. “Not to presume, sir, but it is a little irresponsible to take me aside just to ask after the well being of my sister.”

So, Ziess had clearly been given the same official line that the rest of the troops had. In a certain way, given that a commander like Narshen knew the truth, and he was hardly the only attractor of gossiping toadies among the command staff, Gale had to be impressed that the actions of the princess had been kept secret for as long as they had. Who was trying to spare her reputation? Once, it would have been her brother, but recently, the king—Gale cut that thought off as disloyal to all the years he had served Zephiel. Still, as far as Ziess knew, Princess Guinivere was safe, and with his sister, which was, much like Gale's conversation with General Percival this morning, only the bare truth.

“Your sister defected to the Lycian Army in Missur, when the princess was retaken by the Lycians. I cannot say what the reason behind it was. I firmly believe that the princess would never do anything to endanger the future of Bern, and Dame Miledy is loyal to her like no other. We do not know the whole course of events, and what made those decisions the best ones for your sister and the Princess.

“Still, all of this happened, ostensibly, under General Narshen's command. He has been looking for a way to redeem himself in the eyes of the king ever since, and the king, I do believe, is no longer concealing his intent to place General Narshen in situations so beyond him that even the powerful family and friends that he has accumulated will not be able to save him,” Gale stopped himself.

Ziess' attentiveness was always going to be Gale's downfall. Miledy would listen, patiently waiting for confidences with kindness. Ziess had a sucking quality to his open interest that drew in stray thoughts Gale had always hoped to keep private. At this rate, the niggling worries Gale refused to acknowledge even to himself were going to come out.

Gale breathed in, settling his hand on Crow's neck. The side passage to the throne room was dark, and sounds from the other side of the walls were extremely muffled. “The General ordered that you be detained as a traitor, because your sister is supposedly one.”

“What?” Ziess' strangled cry broke his attitude of studious recruit. “But—I would never—Miledy would never—”

Gale tossed Ziess the satchel he had picked up from the tent shared by the recently made knights, forestalling more protest as Ziess fumbled for the catch. “I know that. I pray the King knows that. But there is something very evil happening in our army. You must join the Lycian army. Find your sister and the princess—”

“What about you?” Ziess' wide red eyes glittered with panic in the dim light of the side passage.

What about him? There was a messenger waiting for him in the camp. There was a general who almost certainly needed his aid. There was a war to win for his king. There was Bern, his home, declaring Miledy a traitor, and touching all who had associated with her with that brush, unless they proved themselves.

There was Miledy herself, who had followed her mistress for a reason. There was the princess who must have a very good reason to disobey her brother so, and put herself in such enormous danger. There had to be reasons for everything.

General Murdock had sent a messenger for him. Gale breathed out. “I will stay long enough to see that you are alive and in good hands, Sir. Zeiss. After that, our fortunes must part.”

“But—you cannot mean, surely you cannot mean for me to ally with the enemy?” Zeiss faltered. “I cannot!”

“You do not have to join them. You may surrender yourself as a prisoner of war for all that it matters,” Gale told the boy, immediately regretting the way his voice snapped at the end of the sentence. Zeiss was not the traitor here. He should be allowed his pride, and protected from the terrible decisions that others had made.

Said knight in need of protection bit his lip and stared at his saddle. “Why is this better than fighting together with my flight wing? Even if my family name is dishonored, I can still be at the side of my friends—”

“It is better because you are alive,” Gale told him, swallowing. “If you chose to become a prisoner of war rather than fight your friends I understand that, but all of these options are better than you being executed as a traitor, which will happen if you don't leave, now.”

“Lieutenant!” a voice echoed down the corridor. “A word, please.”

Gale tried to intimate with his best glare that Zeiss should stay still and quiet, before guiding Crow back to the entrance. A group of five soldiers stood there, looking nervous, as far as Gale could tell under the helmets. “Yes?”

The captain of the squad stepped forward, her heavy plate clanking. “Sir, we have orders to arrest a traitor, one Sir Ziess of the Eastern Flight Wing. We understood that you were with him.”

“I was just giving him new orders. What has he done?” Gale tried to wave his hand in a lack luster manner, as though he had sent Zeiss in that direction. His stomach churned at the thought of these people finding Zeiss in the corridor where Rubley's wings were a disadvantage. The soldiers were only doing their jobs. If he was smart, he could misdirect them.

One of the younger members of the squad passed his captain a sheet of paper. She consulted it, running her gauntleted finger down the page. These people were certainly dressed to take on a lone wyvern knight. “Sedition and communication with enemy forces, apparently. Don't worry sir, he is a wyvern knight after all,” the words had that unpleasant curling edge that Gale knew came from too many years of watching wyvern knights receive glory and commendation over any foot soldier, “and young. I'm sure he will just be detained and questioned, and kept from going outside to visit his .”

“Very well. Try to be at your posts when the battle starts, however,” Gale kept his poise in the saddle, back stiff, gaze respectfully beyond the captain's face, the image of a Flight Commander worried only about the coming victory.

The sound of a bugle and a sudden crash of thunder signaled that not only had the main palace entrance been breached, but the side wing where the mages were stationed was under attack. The squad captain signaled to her troop and they clattered off, in the opposite direction, Gale noticed, than the one he had indicated. Maybe, even if wyvern riders were not among her favorite comrades in arms, the captain felt that winning the battle for Bern was more important than hunting down a lone wyvern rider. Gale might ask her before he returned to General Murdock's side.

When he knew the soldiers could no longer see him, he let out a sigh of relief. The clash of arms managed only to be an occasional clink at this distance, but they were well out of it. Time to put on a brave face, and return to Zeiss. Young knights, at least, responded to confidence much better than they did to reality.

Crow whined as they entered the passage again, and Gale patted his war spines in apology. The echoing bangs and clattering from inside the castle were much louder and reverberated through the stone in a way that was surely awful for the wyverns. At the far end, Rubley snuffled noisily. Between his feet Zeiss sat with his head in his hands.

When Gale coughed, the knight jumped to his feet. “I—Sorry, Lieutenant.”

He had been crying, Gale would guess, seeing a slight shine on his cheeks. Of course, here he was with the noise of battle happening a wall's thickness away, in the dark, with an unhappy wyvern and all the certainties of the morning gone. Gale would breakdown, too. How many times during training had the now proud lieutenant of Bern sought out dark corners to curl in on himself and his unhappiness until Miledy had found and sat with him?

Patting Crow once more, Gale dismounted. About to step toward his trainee, a particularly stone rattling impact on the other side of the wall made him fish for a short javelin in Crow's saddle quiver. No reason to let them both be caught without some defense. He stood over Zeiss, looking at a young knight trying to be a knight rather than a young man left alone. If Miledy could have been here—but Gale was the only one, right now.

“It's not betrayal. Not for you. Your pledge of fealty as a knight was to the crown of Bern, and the princess is the king's heir,” maybe these weren't the right words.

“I'm fine sir, re—”

With a crash that set the wyverns to screaming in indignation, the wall exploded, peppering both knights with hot stone.

“Oh Father Sky! There was something behind that wall? Oh no, that noise—someone's hurt! Wendy, is there anyone on the other side? I didn't mean—”

“How could you know, Lady? It must be a secret passage. Here, is there anyone there?”

Through the dust and smoke a helmeted soldier in one of those impossible tin cans Ostia favored approached. Gale knew he shouldn't attack, if only not to make a bad impression for Zeiss, but Crow ceased bellowing for a moment, his nostrils flaring. Then the blocky head rammed over the knight's shoulder and he trilled happily, ignoring the alarmed yells this action caused.

Gale leaped for Crow's reins, yanking him back. Zeiss was running, but Rubley had been further back than Crow and Zeiss couldn't begin his new life by attacking these people. Gale swung himself onto Crow's neck, trying to parry quick lance thrusts coming from the armored knight. His full grown wyvern was already straining against the position of Gale's heels ordering him to stay, and nothing would stand in a small space with a wyvern charging them. He dug in his knees and Crow shot from stone and dust to carpeted hallway in an eyeblink, oversetting the knight and causing the mage to grab her thunder tome with a cry.

“Gale?!”

Crow's head lifted excitedly, and a flash of lightning smashed into Gale's armor, making his skin throb like a wasp's sting. The javelin in his hand clattered from numb fingers to the carpeted opulence of the palace. For a second, in the aftermath of shocks and pain, he thought he saw Miledy, which was ridiculous, as she was keeping the princess safe. He smiled at the illusion anyway.

“Lady Lilina, please hold your fire—Gale, it doesn't have to come to this!”

The words filtered through the ringing remains of his sense. Gale blinked, but Miledy, tall as ever on Trifinne, was real. Her younger brother was in danger. It was only right that she be here. He could return responsibility for Zeiss, admit that he had failed to keep the boy safe. He would then leave, if this group let him, or fight it out.

“I am sorry, Com—Dame Miledy,” Gale began, when Zeiss and Rubley managed to charge out of the wreck, eyes flashing and, sweet Mother Earth, was he planning to use his rucksack as a bludgeon until he got his hands on a spear? Gale wished fervently for the training ground and a less charged atmosphere, so that he could get Crow to take out Rubley's legs without the disaster that two war wyverns shoving each other in a hallway with stained glass could be. “Sir Zeiss!”

It was his teaching voice, taken from careful observation of the best drill sergeants and as hoped it brought Zeiss up short. It also caused the knight picking herself off the floor to come to attention, and at another moment, Gale would have laughed.

Gale focused his attention on the now smudged and generally unpresentable wyvern rider defector, rather than look at the people he should be speaking to. “I ask for a small truce, while I give this wyvern knight into your keeping.”

“Why?” the mage girl managed to force through the stunned silence.

“Sir Zeiss has been falsely accused of treason. I decided it was better that he join you and run the risk of dying in the arms of family, rather than by strangers. Now if you will excuse me, I must return to my duties—”

“Gale,” Miledy's voice was soft. “Please don't—please don't leave it at that. Don't you want to know why I am here, with this army?”

Something stuck in Gale's throat as he unwillingly turned to face Miledy. “To turn against the King? Of course you had your reasons. Good ones I am certain. Ones that made sense. I need no assurance—”

“The war is being fought for the wrong end, against the wrong people, Gale.”

And with her honesty, she cut through the swirling void of uncertainties that clung to him beseechingly. Please don't ask.

“We need to stop our king. I think you have known this.”

There was a messenger waiting for him, surely with instructions. Other people were counting on him. Please stop. Do not make sense. Do not ask. “I must go to General Murdock—”

The finishing blow was as direct as her lance. Miledy knew him better than anyone ever had. The dark secrets of his life were hers, safeguarded for just such a moment, when in the name of righteousness she needed to take him down a different path. “Join us, Gale. You won't be able to help the general when Zeiss' escape and your role in it become known. You know, better than anyone, how to talk to General Murdock. If we are to have a hope, if he is recalled to Bern and in the army's path, we could save so many good men.”

His eyelids itched hot and heavy when Gale closed them against the reasons Miledy provided. “I—” No one knew better than he did that General Murdock would rather die for Zephiel than live for Bern. They could never convince him otherwise. General Brunya was cast in the same mold, and she deserved better than ignominious defeat at the hand of this Lycian Army. The chance that he could reach either of them, his Wyvern Generals, was remote.

But Miledy was there, doing the right thing, standing by her princess, doing her duty. She chose the right path, even if it meant turning against everyone she had cared about. There should have been more like her. Instead, they were cowards too in love with a king who had been destroyed in front of their very eyes.

He would never be able to talk General Murdock out of laying down his life. No reason governed that tie chaining a good man to a dying memory. It was a choice made out of love. “If we both survive this battle, I would like to hear what you and the Princess have to say.”

Maybe he would share the poison of the observations welling inside of him over the years. Or maybe he would just hear them out, knowing that they were in the right.


End file.
